December 28, 2003

Worship Together

I'm disturbed by the amount of advertising I see on Cartoon Network for the 2-CD set "Worship Together: I Could Sing of Your Love Forever." It's a lot. I used to see it a lot, months ago, and then I didn't watch Cartoon Network at all for about 10 months...and now I turn it on twice in the past two days, and I must've seen that same ad, that I saw 10 months ago, at least four times.

I'm just moderately disturbed, is all.... In the spirit of Christmas (the God stuff, not the "spendspendspend"), I'm not going to freak out, or speculate on ulterior motives, or get into tinfoil hat territory.

Go with God, child.

Posted by Chris at 07:01 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

December 26, 2003

The Definition of Insanity

They say the definition of insanity, in effect, is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I am therefore insane.

I have previously admitted to being woefully unversed in the ways of the fist. But those who've known me for a while know that I'm far, far LESS capable in the ways of the toolbox. Sure, I can do simple things: put together a bookshelf, change my oil, adjust my truss rod, etc.... But when I really think about it, I have to admit that even these simple things take much longer for me than for others, and tend to generate bizarre problems. Now I'll admit I'm a clutz, and I'll admit that I have far less exposure to such things than others do. But nonetheless I have to believe that those shortcomings don't justify the extraordinary level of trouble I have doing such ordinary things. So I generally avoid mechanical trials, because I always have or cause some bizarre problem, and I just get frustrated, and often the job doesn't get done well, or at all. It would be insane to keep trying to do what I obviously can't.

And then I started reading Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I'm only a very short way into the book, but there's been discussion of people who look at the world afraid of technology, mechanics, the underlying functions of things: people who look at the world in a romantic way, seeing surface beauty and basically expecting that things work, and declaring that those things that suddenly fail to work are "fucking with their chi." That's me, and I don't particularly like it.

"Let's change that," I thought to myself, and the perfect opportunity arose when my wiper blade tore and needed replacing. I've done it before, quite often, and no possibility of danger entered my mind. The old wiper came off with minimal trouble. The new wiper had an adapter on it, but the wrong one. No problem: retrieve screwdriver, snap off adapter. Done! Install new wiper. Fumble, fumble, pull...snap! Done! Perfect. One down, one to go. Push wiper arm back down on winshield...hrm. No reassuring springing into place. Why not? Wiper arm broken.

Wiper arm BROKEN!? WHO in GOD'S NAME breaks a wiper arm changing the blade?! In meager defense to myself, a postmortem revealed that the arm was ready to break at any point. Not a screw or bracket broke, but rather the metal of the wiper arm had weakened to the point where it snapped, despite my not-unreasonable pressure. Nonetheless, I've never even heard of anybody doing this. It's humiliating, and I'm embarrassed to admit it. Why admit it? I'm behind on my blogging, and I didn't have anything better to write about.

Once, in middle school, I expressed my distaste for shop class to my uncle. "No nephew of mine hates shop!" It's not my fault, uncle Bob: it's a curse beyond my control.

Posted by Chris at 04:10 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

December 22, 2003

Happy Holidays, Embattled Celebrities!

Howdy folks,

It's been quite a week, and I've been regrettably lax in posting. I think this is about as long as I've missed. What can I say? I've been stressed out and grumpy and I'm ready for a vacation...and one's coming up. Can't decide if I'll stick around or find a guest blogger--but either way, you can count on a better post rate than once a week.

But tonight the Bruins are on, and this time they're only losing by one point, so it's about as good a game as I've seen them play in a month. So I figured I'd talk about some embattled celebrities.

For Martha Stewart, it's the saddest holiday ever. Martha is, of course, facing public and legal accusations of insider trading and an upcoming trial for same. I assume she means it's the saddest holiday ever for her, and not the saddest holiday ever in the history of humanity. But it's tough to tell.

Cheer up Martha! The article says you also want to get married again...well, how about Michael Jackson? He is, and I quote, "fighting mad" about the allegations against him. That's a real quote. Seriously. New Fox reality show: "Who wants to fight Michael Jackson?" Look, I'm not, as I've previously admitted, well versed in the ways of the fist (and I mean fighting, not the Michael Jackson sense of "ways of the fist"), but if I had to fight someone accused of "seven counts of engaging in lewd or lascivious acts involving a child under 14," I'd pick Michael Jackson, with no hesitation, and the other options unseen.

Hey Martha: if you want a husband, how about this guy? He's got a lot of secluded property, and probably not a lot of other marriage prospects right now. And he may smack you around some, but you can beat the bejeezus out of him, and then you can press charges! And maybe you'll both get on the same chain gang. Just don't let him meet the grandkids....

I bet you never knew "Jam!" was a love song!

Posted by Chris at 09:17 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

December 15, 2003

WinterGreenMountainStatement

Thrice already, this season, has New England been pummeled by storms, and thrice have we dug ourselves out. They have not been especially severe: no worse, to be sure, than the Christmas/New Year's storms of last winter...but there's something about them, something about their timing and insistence that upgrades them from meterological annoyances to wretched harbingers of a horrible winter to come. I'm talking about the kind of winter even your grandfather wouldn't mention; the kind of winter that makes men bestow names on their snow rakes; the kind of winter Norse gods inflict on followers who build their statues 15 cubits off the mark.

You fools! I indicated that tree over there! I cannot bear a statue here! An inch I would have forgiven...and possibly two. But fifteen cubits?! The devil winter for you! I'll leave just enough of you alive to rebuild a new civilization, more capable of fine measurement and following instructions! The rest of you had best fetch coats...

Forget, for a moment, your religious preconceptions, whatever they may be: you believe in Hell, and your greatest fears are sinning and going to Hell, except those are only your second greatest fears: your real greatest fear is that you were unspeakably evil in a past life, and you've already died and gone to Hell, and this is it: except it's freezing, not hot at all. That's the sort of winter I'm talking about, people. El Nino is alive and well, coming back for revenge. Don't let Jack London fool you, kiddies: Alaska's not the only place with harsh winters. We get our share, and I've got a hunch this'll be a doozy.

Still, I could be wrong: these could merely be regular storms, and we could be in for a winter with no evil overshadows, no cackling trickster gods.... And yet, either way, I must reflect for a moment on the joys of my coat.

Yes, my new coat, which I love like a son that never cries or asks for anything. It's a deep green & gray, and it fits like a glove. Inside, it has a removable fleece lining, which is now my fall coat. It has a waterproof hood, and pockets galore. It is a long coat, but it unzips from the bottom, so as not to limit my range of leg motion. Other features include something called a "radial sleeve," which I guess lets me move my arms in circles, and a deluxe ventilation system which means I can shovel snow without undue sweat. This is no mean parka, son: this is a fully modular, customizable, personal environment system, and with it I can laugh in Loki's face (until he turns it into a swarm of ravens that shit on my head and fly away).

Such a coat doesn't come cheap. I found it around 40% off, and had a $50 gift certificate, and I still couldn't believe I was about to pay this much for a coat. I justified it as being two coats, really, and since neither my winter nor fall coat were up to much more abuse, it seemed like a reasonable investment. And now, looking back, I'd highly recommend it to anyone.

But who in Loki's name cares about my coat? Colin Powell has cancer (Hah: Colin cancer!! Nah, prostate cancer...). And we've finally caught Saddam, which will be touted as a great humanitarian victory. And it certainly is, and I gladly add it to my short list of positive things I can say about the current American regime. Since it's still new & good news, I won't go off on the reasons people seem to have such a boner for the Iraq thing. I will say that most of the people who seem really charged up on "getting Saddam" and bringing about justice for all his horrible human rights violations seem, despite their deep and obvious passion for humanity, oddly unaware of other human rights crises around the world (or here at home). They also seem to have relatively bad attitudes about the actual Iraqi people who were victimized anyway, if not Arabs in general...so why the hurrah? Surely we're not scoring our political victories as humanitarian, spitting in the faces of those who oppose us? No! Well, we've been doing that from the get-go, I suppose. And my frustration with that, and all the spin that I can already see, crystal-clear, starting now and spinning on through W's re-election, and on and on blindly into the shitstorm that'll follow that horror...well, it's enough to drive a man to write about how great his coat is, instead of all the bullshit.

Ah, now see? My grumpiness has caught up to me. Anyway, it's a great coat. Columbia Sportswear. Warm, comfy. Good stuff.

Posted by Chris at 08:50 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

December 14, 2003

Bows

Today the little lady's neice came here to wrap a present for her friend. She was sent in to me for help with the bows, which come from a huge clear bag about the size of a minivan.

"Which color do you want?"
"Um...purple."
"Purple?! Purple's way at the bottom! Pick another color!"

I was kidding, of course, and had in fact already started fishing for the purple bow. The joshing would surely have been obvious to anyone older than 10, but she's far younger than that, so over her head it went.

"Green!"

I triumphantly pulled hand from bag to reveal the coveted purple bow, which apparently was no longer quite so coveted: to be sure, it met with a vaguely confused expression and a disappointed yet surprised "oh!"

"Do you still want it? How about two bows?"

So the gift was adorned with a purple bow and a green bow. She smiled and made a noise something like a cross between a hencluck and the word "done!" and returned to the other room, festooned package held high.

After that there was, among the adults, considerable frustration over the precise spelling of "Caitlin," which involved repeatedly yelling the letters "C-A-I-T-L-I-N" from one room to the other and then the quieter expression of doubt over my spelling choice...which may well be wrong given the recent propensity of parents to bestow on their children common names, ridiculously-spelled. Through it all, the child, who never knew nor cared how to spell "Caitlin" remained silent, but I could hear the thoughts in her head:

"What the hell is the matter with you people?! Why don't I just fucking hand it to her?"

Ah, kids in small doses...my style. Happy holidays.

Posted by Chris at 01:11 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

December 11, 2003

if ((Dean == McGovern) || (Dean != McGovern)) { die("Can't Decide! Abort! Abort!"); } else { print("Yay! I Found Something Else to Write About!"); }

Raul Groom's article on Lieberman, Dean, and the Democratic Party starts off pretty well but goes in a questionable direction, making claims (lots, if you read between the lines) I'd certainly like to believe, but giving very little evidence for many of them. Some select quotes:

"...we've got to stop listening to Holy Joe and his merry band of wimps..."

"Joe Lieberman isn't in it to win it. He really is The Mole."

Worth a read, nonetheless. The article takes the position that Dean is no McGovern.

Not worth a read, but pointed out because I sat through it, is Mort Kondracke's op-ed on current Democrats and their past counterparts. It reveals more of Mort's opinion than any real fact...but that's ok, because that's what op-eds are for. Some choice quotes:

"All Dean's position-switching - on trade, Medicare, defense spending and business regulation - will be replayed endlessly by the Bush campaign."

"Bush has plotted to be Ronald Reagan, stimulating the economy with defense spending and tax cuts, running up big deficits and causing the economy to boom. The latest growth numbers indicate that the plan is working."


I could go on and on about Bush's position switching, but I won't bother with that right now, because it's quite obvious to everyone who's willing to see it, and I will fail to convince anyone who's not willing to see it. I will say it's somewhat disingenuous to claim that Bush's economic strategy, all along, was to let it falter for three years and then recover just in time for reelection. If that's true, it's pretty scary...would you really want to elect a President who sacrifices three years of your well-being for his own political gain?

But that seems like real tinfoil hat territory, even to me...and I'm out there. I honestly believe that the removal of the anti-fraud measure from the $87.5 billion Iraq aid package (see my previous post...we've thought of some now!) was eliminated because Congress knew Halliburton--which today the Pentagon has found to have engaged in unfair pricing at the expense of the American taxpayer--and companies like it, were extremely likely to defraud the American taxpayer. I really believe that Wesley Clark is a Republican plant, their efforts at a one-party system. I really believe that electronic voting machines are a right-wing conspiracy (check out this internal Diebold memo that details plans to gouge Maryland should the state be so foolish as to request a voter-verified audit trail. Sure, you have the right to vote! You just don't have the right to know what we decided your vote was!

So I'm out there. I admit it. But honestly, even I think it's way-out wacko to think that Bush's fiscal plan involved deliberately throwing our economy into recession only to pull it out after a three-year slide. Come on, Kondracke!

I had a coworker recently chide me, saying I must be dismayed that the Dow has hit 10,000. "Why?" I asked, "Isn't bigger better?"

"Well, not if you're a liberal, hoping the economy tanks so you can get rid of Bush!"

I suppose it'd be much easier to get rid of Bush were the economy bad. But really, there's a boatload of reasons to get rid of Bush. I don't rely on the economy, and honestly it could've boomed for four years, I could be making triple what I am, and all my friends could find great jobs, and I'd still want to get rid of him, because it's not just the economy that matters. And furthermore, I find it tough to believe Republicans can say that the eight years of prosperity under Clinton had nothing to do with the White House and everything to do with the diligence of the American worker, but the economy under Bush is a creation totally of his own brilliance. Did every American suddenly become lackadaisical when Bush was elected? My best guess is that the American President, whoever he, she, or it might be at the time, exerts more influence over the economy than the citizenry (mostly by appointments to economic oversight positions). To assert that he's 100% responsible for any economic good news, but only if he's a member of the right party, seems a little crazy.

Jesus, are you still reading this? If you want some decent thoughts on the economy, check out this AlterNet article: Still Waiting for the Trickledown.

Well, we've gone way off topic. The point I originally meant to make was this: I've skimmed at least thirty articles that assert that Dean is the next McGovern, and I've skimmed around the same number that assert that he's not. Few seem to rely on any actual details of McGovern or his campaign, except the end result. Few seem to bother really examining Dean's policies. Or McGovern's, for that matter. So wouldn't the press corps' time be better spent researching, instead of spouting off baseless facts? Besides, who's the better alternative, really? Kucinich seems more McGovern to me. Gephardt? Edwards? Get real!

Dammit! Too much politics! Calm down. View penguins at the Antarctic Photo Library.

Posted by Chris at 11:36 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

December 08, 2003

Ten Years Worth of Condiment

Yep, The Mayonnaise Rage woman got 10 years

And I'll confess, I haven't seen the Paris Hilton video. Here's a good piece about her and other beautiful people, and why we enjoy watching their public humiliation.

So instead of watching the video of the hot chick having sex, I read an ugly woman's article about why we love to hate beautiful people. I'm not particularly proud of that. Someone send me that video.

Posted by Chris at 10:22 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

December 06, 2003

Iron Chef Retarded

So I'm watching Iron Chef USA. It's hysterically bad.

Shatner is his typical overdramatic self, but he's not referred to as "Shatner," or "William," or "Billy." He's just "The Chairman." We've taken all the subtlety out of the show...which shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone, really, except that instead of just stripping it away and leaving a slightly brash version of the delicate original, we've twisted it into a ridiculous amalgam of American Gladiators and Emeril Live. We play this game in an arena disturbingly similar to the Who Wants to be a Millionaire set.

The theme music is a cheap arrangement likely inspired by--but quite inferior to--the Japanese version's "Backdraft" theme. Shatner starts the whole wretched affair with a huge toes-to-ceiling gesture and a scream--"Turn up the Heat!"--after which a busty but less-attractive version of Vanna White rings a big gong. Today's secret ingredient is turkey. The meat, not the country.

There is a huge digital screen on each side of the studio, displaying camera closeups and other crowd-pleasers. The color scheme for the graphics work is red white and blue, with unpleasantly psychedelic displays for the names of the Iron Chefs.

There's actually an "Iron Chef American." His specialty is brisket. The tasting panel has Ron Popeil on it, for Christ's sake!

Iron Chef Italian, it has just been announced, will be making Ravioli! The crowd, stunned for a brief moment, erupts in applause, and then the sound level quiets down so we can hear the intense music, complete with a steady high-hat that simulates the ticking of a stopwatch. All the music is deliberately cheesy.

I cannot believe what I'm seeing. It's the absolute greatest comedy show of the fall season, ousting all the network suspects, and I predict nothing funnier will come on in a year unless they make a reality TV show about Dick Cheney's family.

"I'm a lesbian, Dad! I love other women!" "It's damned EVIL, Mary! EVIL!!! Talk about laughs!

Back in Kitchen Stadium, or whatever it's called now, Iron Chef Italian has dropped a piece of saltimbocca. The crowd, in unison, makes a loud "oh!" The challenger's foamer doesn't work! What will he do?

The announcers are particularly qualified. "Now, what's he got there?" "Uh, that's a food processor. It chops things up, real fine." "And what's that tool called, that he's using there?" "It's a ravioli-cutter." "Oh. It's a good thing you're here."

I've just been reminded that this venue is called "Kitchen Arena," not "Kitchen Stadium," as I previously guessed.

The boisterous crowd quiets down as Ron Popeil calls the challenger's tuna-and-turkey dish "bland." Some guy from a sitcom I don't remember says they don't go together. Kelly Hu says it's good. The guy says "Tuna belongs on toast with some mayonnaise. A black woman named Loretta says it's "nothing she was used to eating in the hood." The canned lauger from the crowd.

As the judging begins, the tasting panel opens their notebooks. Popeil dons his Rumsfeld sunglasses. A fanfare plays, and we're into a commercial break. Who will win? It's obvious, from the commentary, that the Iron Chef will. So why do we stay tuned? In case something funny happens. Which I'm virtually positive will be the case. The little lady just asked if this was on Comedy Central.

And we're back. The Iron Chef has won. Shatner The Chairman has shed his sparkly purple overcoat, but retains his silken purple vest. He ends with a Springer-style "final thought," a droning soliliquy that touches on individiality and courage and a bunch of blather I couldn't be bothered to listen to. Cut to a shot of the crowd doing the wave, cue the triumphant music, and we're done.

Now that is some funny TV. Good job, Food Network.

Posted by Chris at 10:59 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack

December 05, 2003

Near-Irony and Actual Irony (Although Not the Main Definition of "Irony" that Intellectuals Love Defending, But Rather, a Tertiary Definition That's Acceptable According to Merriam-Webster) 'n' Shit

Both true, and courtesy of Ananova, which is too much fun.

Woman sues because it's too cold for sex
Isn't the act of sex itself capable of generating heat? I can understand it being too cold to swim...but...this would be free heat!

Jeep stolen while driver prayed for safe journey
Ah, God's sense of humor. Take that, greedy blessing-seeker!!

Posted by Chris at 10:59 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

December 04, 2003

Rage Gate Rage

'Mayonnaise rage driver' runs over McDonald's employee.

::sigh:: I realize this headline is meant in jest. But think back to "Air Rage" and "Work Rage." There's a real lazy tendency to just toss "Rage" onto the subject of a story to make it eye-catching. Come on! This woman ran over a human being because of mayonnaise! Do we really need the lamo "Rage" tagline? It's enough to really piss you off! I'm gonna fucking run some reporter over because of it!

And don't get me started on -gate! Whitewatergate, Sausagegate... Ragegate!

This post blows. I apologize. Suppress the rage. It won't become bad post gate. You won't have to get bad post gate rage, and I won't have to have retaliatory bad post gate rage rage, which would really just escalate into bad post gate rage rage gate. That'd really suck. And it won't help the post anyway. I should stop. Or edit.

Gaterageragegateragegate. Blashiggildedoo! Whip wiggidy wow! Samoove!

Thank God I put in a complaints department.

Posted by Chris at 10:21 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

December 03, 2003

A Nerd Most On

Today I left Best Buy because of terrible customer service. To give you an idea of how bad it was, I found much better customer service at STAPLES. Normally, the only place worse than Staples is Radio Shack. But Best Buy beat even my worst Radio Shack experience. Details too painful...cannot explain. Must...let...anguish...pass....

Calpundit theorizes that Ralph Nader's likely presidential run will be good for the Democrats because so many of them hate Nader they're likely to come out of the woodwork and actually vote. My theory is that the 35% of eligible voters nationwide that vote are actually all the people who really exist, and the apparent population discrepancy is the result of census numbers forged to aid in local electoral redistricting measures. So I think 100% of eligible voters are actually voting, and there are way fewer people in this country than we're told.

Don't mistake my kindness in letting you cross the street with an unwillingness to run your FAT FUCKING ASS OVER if you slowly saunter across while I sit there. Bitch.

Tires are expensive.

Take back Saskatchewan.

Posted by Chris at 08:55 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

December 02, 2003

Intention English With Clear Never Three

Plain English has released its 2003 awards, and The Root Beer Blog's honored guest blogger, Donald Rumsfeld, has won the Foot in Mouth award for Baffling Quote by a Public Figure!

"'Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns ? the ones we don't know we don't know.'"

--Donald Rumsfeld

This quote only seems baffling. You have to look at the context in which it was uttered. That quote was an answer to this question:

"In regard to Iraq weapons of mass destruction and terrorists, is there any evidence to indicate that Iraq has attempted to or is willing to supply terrorists with weapons of mass destruction? Because there are reports that there is no evidence of a direct link between Baghdad and some of these terrorist organizations."

--Some reporter

So when you see the reporter basically accusing the administration of being less than honest, and Rumsfeld gives that response, that's him saying "You're right: fuck you!" But you can't say "fuck" on TV, and it's undesirable to have the SoD bleeped, so he had to rephrase. I hope I cleared that up for you.

Mug root beer is good. I know that. But I also know there are root beers I've never had. And I know there are root beers I don't know I haven't had. So when I say A&W root beer is the best, you can believe that it's the best of the known knowns and beats all plausible known unknowns, but may be usurped by unknown unknowns, as we all know. Y'know? So drink Barq's.

Posted by Chris at 11:19 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

December 01, 2003

How Can I Live With Myself?

I was thinking today, for no really good reason, of a time about eight months ago when I was parked in the mall, waiting for the little lady. I'm just reading Bass Player, minding my own business. And this little old lady pulls up and parks on my passenger side, and opens her door. Hard. And she hit mine. Hard. I should explain: this was not a tap. It was a real thunk.

So the old lady finishes tottering her old lady body out of her old lady car, and peers down at the old lady damage she caused. And she gives me an old lady look, through my passenger side window, and watches me getting out of the driver's side...and just fucking walks away.

At this point, a few options occur to me:

1. I could yell at her. What would that accomplish? It's not like she'd come back and apologize: it's obvious enough that when an old lady makes eye contact with you and walks away, an apology is not forthcoming.

2. I could run her down, tackle her, and beat her face in. Despite not being in shape, or particularly versed in the ways of the fist, I feel confident that the battle would go my way. What would that accomplish? I'd feel a sense of retribution. She'd learn lessons about parking lot etiquette that she wouldn't forget for the rest of her life (I'm guessing 2-8 months). But I'd most likely be seen, and I'd go to jail, and they don't serve A&W root beer in jail, so that would've been a bad idea.

3. I could glare ominously at her and inspect the damage caused to my car. This is what I chose to do. Fortunately, the damage was slight, and I care little about the aesthetics of my car. This is probably why I didn't do something so drastic as run her down and beat her senseless.

But you see, it was my societal obligation to chase and pummel her, because that would've taught her a lesson! Now other poor schmoes have to deal with that situation again...and again...and again...as she lives out her old lady life opening her old lady door into other cars, and walking away like fucking old people just rule the goddamned world! I had an opportunity to improve society, make my lasting mark--however subtle--and I hung my head and let the opportunity slip away. For shame!

How can I live with myself after not beating Holy Hell out of that old woman?

Posted by Chris at 10:14 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack